


break my body (hold my bones)

by ficfucker



Category: Reservoir Dogs (1992)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24345175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficfucker/pseuds/ficfucker
Summary: white stays the night. freddy wakes up to him cooking breakfast.
Relationships: Mr. Orange/Mr. White (Reservoir Dogs)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 44





	break my body (hold my bones)

**Author's Note:**

> title from break my body by the pixies

When Freddy wakes up the morning after, it's because the bed is empty, the sheets cooling. It is also because he smells the warm, thick scent of something buttery being fried in a pan. He finds a pair of clean enough boxers and steps into them. 

And when he opens the door and finds White there in his kitchen, it hits him. His guts drop down inside him like a rickety dumbwaiter plummeting to the bottom of an empty shaft. White's in just his pants, no shirt, probably because he couldn't find the campy Hawaiian button down he was wearing last night. Freddy knows it's shoved under the bed, remembers kicking it there so it was out of the way when he got up in the night to piss. 

Waves of emotion roll over him in unforgiving clashes. A small flicker of excitement and gooey appreciation that White is here, that he stayed, followed by a wicked burning of anger, because Freddy doesn't deserve a lick of kindness from the guy. Panicked regret, wondering if White poked around at all while he was snoring, found his uniform or police files. A splash of general, stinging sadness because he's done this to himself and now White, who, for being a hardened criminal, is innocent when it comes to his loving. He doesn't know Freddy is what he is and if Freddy had the balls to, wasn't so sure that Joe Cabot would come and fix a rathole point blank in the back of his head, he'd come clean and let White have that freedom. 

The guilt of it all is the after taste that never leaves Freddy's mouth. 

White finally senses Freddy in the room. He turns around with a melting chocolate smile and says, "Morninn', punk. Fixin' eggs. Scrambled. Figured all kids like scrambled eggs." 

Freddy doesn't have much of an appetite. He wants to unfurl into a sob, wants to drop down to his knees and ask God how this could happen. He wants to throw dishes at the wall like he's a boy pitching a tantrum. He wants to pass out and wake up as someone else, some other Freddy Newandyke, a Freddy Newandyke who isn't a cop falling hopelessly in love with a man of crime like Mr. White. 

Instead, he says, convincing as he can, "Shit, yeah, I'm not picky." 

White smiles wider and returns his attention to the stovetop. "Could've guessed," he teases. 

It's a joke about how much of a fucking slob Freddy is, but Freddy doesn't entertain it. He crosses the room and slumps into a chair. "You got a cigarette, man?" 

White pats his pockets and comes up with a pack, hands Freddy a dart. 

"Thanks." There's a lighter conveniently on the table. Freddy takes a long drag, forcing the expanding umbrella of bitter smoke into his lungs. 

"I made coffee too, I hope you don't mind. You know, the whole making breakfast thing." 

Freddy looks up dumbly. "What? Oh, nah. No, no, I appreciate it, actually. I don't mind at all." 

"Ever want me to fuck off, I won't take it personally." White scrapes overly yellow egg onto two clean plates. "I just hate knowing you probably don't get a proper meal all that often, no offense, I just know what it's like." 

"What what's like?" 

White sets Freddy's plate down in front of him. "The whole being a bachelor thing. I didn't learn to take care of myself until I was way older than you." 

Freddy forces egg into his mouth. White brings him a steaming mug of black coffee, which he takes a big chug of. He wants to snap at White, bite a few fingers off. He doesn't have the right to, but the situation is so fucking heartbreaking, so sickening, such a bold reminder that Freddy is, first and foremost, a liar, he wants anything to make White go away. 

He manages a smile he hopes doesn't look like a grimace. "I get along okay," he says. 

"A personal maid wouldn't hurt." 

"Pushin' a little weed doesn't exactly leave a lot of room to hire help." 

Another lie. Another stupid story. An ever-expanding quilt, each patch laid held by the one beside it. 

White snorts. He smiles oh so fondly at Freddy from over his mug of coffee. "I know that, believe me. After this job, though, you'll have some to spare." 

Freddy's stomach tightens. "Yeah… Probably gonna blow it on dumb shit anyway." 

"Hey, live it up while you can. That's what being young is about." 

Freddy hums. He finishes his coffee and mechanically works egg into his mouth. Mr. Orange has left, gone right out the door. All that's left is Freddy, the quivering little cop in over his head. 

When he's Mr. Orange, he's cool, so fucking cool. Mr. Orange could handle waking up with Mr. White, would probably offer to suck his dick before they have to get on with the day. 

Freddy Newandyke, however, is the one sitting at the table and he's writhing like a worm on a hot sidewalk. 

They finish breakfast quietly and Freddy stands, says, "I'll grab your shirt, saw it in the bedroom." 

Mr. White smiles around the cigarette he's sucking on. "Thanks, kid… for everything." 

"Don't gotta thank me," Freddy mumbles. 

He returns with White's shirt and as White takes it, their fingers touch. Freddy drops his eyes away, ashamed. 

"I'll see ya when Joe sets us up together, yeah?" 

"Yeah, of course." 

Mr. White buttons the last button of his shirt, tucks the tails into his pants. He checks to make sure he has all his belongings then stands there a minute, just looking at Freddy. There's a moment of palpable tension, of White calculating his move. Finally, he gives in and gives Freddy a quick, innocent kiss on the forehead. 

Freddy fidgets dumbly with his obviously fake wedding ring. He's not sure why he's even still wearing it. White called him a bachelor. White has seen his shit hole apartment, a space fit more for a college student than a grown man, no wife or other in any room. Every bit of Freddy is a fabrication save for his messy, childish living situation. 

"Don't get into too much trouble," White says, as way of departing. He smiles over his shoulder at Freddy from the doorway. 

Freddy says, "I won't." 

He's already in it. Freddy is treading water with sharks. 

The door clicks shut like a gunshot. 

Freddy returns to the table and plucks the butt Mr. White stubbed out in the glass ashtray. He lifts it to his trembling bottom lip and drags off it, just so his mouth is pressed to something White's had been wrapped around only minutes before.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading <3
> 
> you can find me on tmblr @ficfucker


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